For the First Time
by Cecelia S. Bradley
Summary: Most people over ten don't believe in magic. But there is a time for everything. Even magic. Even for somebody like Natalie Kabra. And sometimes, you can let go of what is obviously true and believe. Believe in magic.


**This story is dedicated to Hope (AShellThatSings) and Lily, who give me more than I could ask for in the way of friendship.**

Most people over the age of ten don't believe in magic. The age of Santa Claus and Disney princesses has long gone, replaced by real, material objects like a football or a container of nail polish. When they hear a little kid say something like, "The tooth fairy's gonna get my tooth tonight," they scoff, roll their eyes, or change the subject. Cinderella's pumpkin is replaced by dreams of a car or a lorry, and "Abracadabra" becomes obsolete.

I never had believed in magic. My parents cherished the value of deception, but they never stooped so low as to teach their children that minute winged pixies flew around our gardens at night. Father Christmas never was. Any rabbit seen hopping around on the lawn on Easter morning was not chased in the hopes of getting eggs. I never made a wish on a falling star. None of us did. We believed in reality, power, conquest, victory, things you could touch or view in action. Placing any faith in false objects was simply insane, utterly laughable, completely ludicrous.

Consequently, when we first saw our cousins at Grace's manor for a family holiday gathering and I observed Daniel galloping around the house and shouting, "Where is Santy? Where is Santy Claus?", I couldn't help but smirk. I had only just turned four, while he was nearly five, and I was already much more mature than that. He put faith in nonexistent objects, he depended on them at times, he _believed_ in them. Trust is only for the people usually found dead at the bottoms of wells, and trust in "Father Christmas?" Please.

I walked over to him, pasting a fake smile on my face. "Daniel? I saw him walk into the library. I would check there, if I were you." I pointed a chubby finger, inwardly patting myself on the back for a task well done.

He stuck his tongue out at me, and I suddenly felt grateful that I had the parents that were mine. "I'm Dan. D-A-N, Natawie. You always say it wrong on porpoise!" And he ran away quickly in the direction of the library.

"H-he meant to say thanks. H-he just forgot." I had misremembered that the little boy's sister was with us. She smiled shyly at me. I raised my eyebrows at her and used my brother's favorite smirk. She blushed and turned away. Ian nodded approvingly at me.

But then I realized she had thought I was telling the truth. _Amy _believed in Father Christmas, too? This family was utterly pathetic. I had to walk away before I ruined my mum's goal. She wished for us to befriend the Cahills and retrieve any information from them that we might, but looking at Daniel running towards the library as if the whole world depended on it and Amy cowering behind her thick book, I saw that that would be impossible.

Nine years later, I was still of the same opinion. True, my cousins had won the Clue hunt, but that was their only positive attribute. The girl? She still wished upon stars and jumped to touch them, believing in anything that gave hope. The boy? He was obsessed with those Japanese warrior objects—ninjas?—that we all knew didn't exist. They were intelligent, I will admit, and they were persistent, but they were fools. Utter fools.

The day after I turned thirteen, I received a call from Daniel. He sullenly wished me a happy birthday, and I asked him immediately why I had the "pleasure" of speaking to him.

"It's your birthday, duh. Natalie, you may be a Lucian, but your brain reminds me of a ninja turtleshell without the turtle—empty."

"My pea-brained cousin speaks of such things in regards to me; oh, the irony. And I meant, why are you wishing me a happy birthday? As far as I know, you would rather wish me "bon voyage" on a one-way trip to Malaysia."

"That would be nice. You're planning on going?"

"No."

"Shoot! I was just getting some hope."

"And you still haven't answered my question."

He sighed. "My dweeb of a sister told me to call. Madrigals like peace and friendship, and all that jazz."

"Well, do not worry, Daniel. I have no intention of befriending any commoners at the moment, you included. Actually, that was factually incorrect. You especially. That would take a brain transplant or magic."

"You don't worry, Natalie. I don't want to be your friend. I wouldn't ever. So happy birthday and goodbye."

"Good-" but he had hung up. He didn't hear me say "riddance," and not "bye."

But then the Vesper attack came along, my m-Isabel at the head. And I was carried away to Madagascar, of all places, where the air was sweltering, the clothes given to me were decidedly _not _Prada, my food was nonexistent. I would never have thought that I could stoop so low as to beg a Vesper with an electric baton on my _knees _not to strike me again. But he did. And I found the only way I could escape the wretched place was to leave. In my mind. I would picture a time when I was happy, and then I could forget what was happening around me.

It was funny how many times those memories involved Daniel. I had never noticed before how he had a cheery personality, and that cheeriness was catching. And when Ian, Daniel and Ted Starling joined forces to rescue me from that place, I found myself glad that not only my brother was there.

I was taken to a hospital immediately. Ian told the nurses at the front desk nothing, just ordered then, in essence, to treat me immediately with the best they could offer. I had never seen fear in Ian's eyes before. Why did I see it now?

I woke up later to Daniel sitting beside my bed with a video console. He told me I had been unconscious for a few days.

"You are teasing me, correct?"

"Nuh-uh. I just shoved Ian into a bed somewhere a few hours ago. He hadn't been eating or drinking or sleeping at all for three days, and I figured you would like to see him alive, too. But honestly, Natalie, you owe me. I could be playing this game at home, where I can turn up the sound really loud on a giant television, and I'm here instead sitting beside you and playing on a ten-inch television with the volume on three." He sighed. "This just isn't my day."

"It isn't your day? It isn't _your_ day? I got kidnapped by a bunch of men that make the Nazis seem like angels, I'm at a hospital recovering on smelly, non-Egyptian cotton linens in the most hideous night gown ever, and I wake up to find _you_ sitting beside me, and it isn't _your_ day/'

"Nope. It isn't."

If looks could kill , Daniel Cahill would have been dead many times. I could not believe that I had thought friendly thoughts about him at the Vesper base. I had to have been delusional; they said starvation caused temporary insanity.

"For the record, I was kidding."

Daniel was looking at me strangely. "What? Is something the matter?"

"Oh, no, nothing at all. You were only waving your hands around like a madwoman and yelling, 'Daniel! Daniel, you nitwitted imbecile!' Nothing the matter in the least."

"You're 'kidding' again, yes?" If he was telling the truth, then…

"Mmmhmm. Congratulations! You're learning!" He bent over his video game again.

"Be glad that _I_ have matured enough, at least, not to say everything that occurs to me and call you ridiculous insults."

"Oh, yes. I'm glad. The Natalie-monster was really worrying me."

I realized how awfully useful glares were at that moment.

"Oh, and by the way, Natalie? I brought you a present. Amy insisted."

I almost reached for it. "Bring it over here, then."

He stood up from his chair, after pausing his game, and dropped a misshapen lump with wrapping paper on the pillow beside me. I stared at it in disgust.

"I haven't gotten to gift-wrapping in home economics yet, okay?"

I gingerly reached for the parcel, hoping it didn't explode on me. Hoping, hoping—

'Uh, yo, Natalie? You can stop squinching up your face like that, you know? It's weird.

I opened my eyes and pulled at the wrapping. Inside I found a t-shirt. Bizarre. I unfolded it and read, "Stealth. Silence. Power. The Ninja Force!" I dropped the shirt.

"Is this what you Americans call a 'gag gift'? Because I am certain that you know me at least better than _this_." I pointed at the t-shirt.

"Nope. Well, yeah. Sort of. Amy said that laughter was the best medicine or something like that, so I picked it up just for you. And even though it's not Guckey-"

"Gucci."

"Yeah, whatever. Even though it's not Guckey, it _is _couture."

"This shirt? This shirt is _not_ couture."

"It is! The only one at Target. It's an extra large, but I figured you could sleep in it instead of that thing." Apparently he despised my nightshirt, as well.

"Well, the shirt is odious, but this nightgown is revolting, so I might actually change into your gift."

"Dude, you look like an old granny in that thing, except for younger."

"What sense did that make?"

He shrugged. "None. But does it matter? Nope. I'll let you do your changey thing now, and I'll get Ian too. Too bad you didn't wake up later. You only let him get about three hours of sleep." And Daniel left.

I found myself smiling. I looked in the mirror above the sink in my room. No, I was not delirious or fevered. But was it possible that I liked Daniel? Not _liked_ him, but liked him?

I had once said that it would take magic for Dan to become my friend.

For the first time, I believed in magic.


End file.
